Disclaimer: Alias belongs to JJ Abrams, ABC and the people at Bad Robot

Rating: PG-13, for language and sexual themes in future chapters

Pairing: Sydney/Sark, suggested Sydney/Vaughn and Sark/Lauren

Summary: When Sydney makes the fatal mistake of trusting Sark with a gun in Man of His Word, Season 4, Sark takes the opportunity to revenge himself on Vaughn for Lauren's murder. However, after spending a prolonged time together, Sark and Sydney begin to develop feelings that neither of them anticipated.

Author's Note: An AU version of the events in Man of His Word. What might have happened had Sydney trusted Sark with a gun during the fight with Anna at the club.

Chapter 6- Seeing to Business Innsbruck

"I am not used to being kept waiting, Mr. Sark," Joshua Frou announced through clenched teeth. He was lounging in his office chair at the foot of Sark's long table in what he had referred to as 'The Conference Room.' Frou had already finished off one tumbler of brandy and the hard liquor was making him more arrogant than normal.

"That makes two of us," Sark said unsympathetically. He was far from impressed with the shenanigans of Tai Ichiniwa. She had kept himself, Frou and Poladski stranded in Austria for a week and a half, as she continued to delay the meeting she herself had called. She had promised him over the phone yesterday morning that she would attend their conference the next day at 3:30 in the afternoon. It was now 4:00 and they had neither seen nor heard from her. Sark was beginning to suspect that she was double crossing them and giving away their locations to whatever agency she was really working with. He had doubled the guards around the perimeter and had a helicopter on standby to pick him up should the need arise.

"You should never have given operational control to that woman!" Igor Poladski complained loudly, cracking his knuckles. "She's only interested in this agency for a means to an end that none of us can guess at."

"That may be true," Sark allowed. "But as long as she is willing to work with us, I'm willing to use her talent. The moment she looks like defecting, I have arrangements for the proper countermeasures."

"Well, that will no doubt be appreciated if we can catch her defecting," Frou ranted. "But what if that is what she's planning right now? She could be talking to M16 or CIA right now."

"Or she could be standing behind you, having just completed an astonishingly difficult mission that will lead to all of your benefits," came the cold drawl of Tai Ichiniwa as she swept into the conference room, accompanied by Sark's Austrian butler. She was dressed in a long black trench coat and carried a silver briefcase.

"That too," acknowledged Frou, without the decency to look ashamed. "Do you mind telling us where the hell you've been?"

"Were you never taught it is improper to use vulgar language in front of a lady?" Tai inquired scornfully, nonchalantly sauntering to the head of the table and laying the briefcase in front of her chair.

"I see no lady present," Frou sneered.

Sark didn't manage to break into their bickering until Tai had made an extremely 'vulgar' comment about what Frou should do to his birth mother. "Please!" he snapped. "I was under the impression I was running an organization of capable spies, not a grade eight class."

"You are running neither, Mr. Sark," Tai turned her glare on him. "I, however, am running this organization. And now that we have completed phase one of our operations, I will be dictating where we go from here."

"Excuse me?" Poladski grunted. "What do you mean we have 'completed' phase one of our operation? I thought this meeting was called so we could discuss a valuable lead that could possibly assist us in completing phase one."

"Well, that was the original intention," Tai admitted. "But while you boys were dawdling here in luxury, myself and a trustworthy team infiltrated the Covenant's Australian sever farm and were able to fully recover Mr. Sark's assets. It would appear the Covenant paid back their debts. They kept Mr. Sark's money in a holding fund and relied mostly on interest." She popped open her briefcase and withdrew a laptop. She flipped open the computer and turned the screen towards her flabbergasted business partners. "I look the liberty of having the amount agreed upon transferred to each of your bank accounts, despite the fact that you were all uninvolved with the retrieval."

Sark half collapsed into his chair. He took a moment to recover himself, and then glared up at Tai. "Do you mean to tell me that you took on a mission of this magnitude without even consulting any other members of the Guild?"

"That is exactly what I mean to tell you," nodded Tai. "I saw no reason why I should not. If I did not act quickly, the Covenant may have discovered they had been made."

"You couldn't find the time to make a simple phone call to at least get permission to carry out this op?" Poladski exploded.

Tai frowned around at her male counterparts. "I don't know what you are all so distraught over. The mission was a perfect success…and you are all one hundred million dollars richer. Or, in Mr. Sark's case, five hundred million dollars."

"But what would have happened if you had failed? Been captured? Tortured?" demanded Frou, his eye twitching unnaturally. "At best you would be beyond our reach and we would be back at the beginning with no leads. At worst, you could have given away the secrets of the Guild and our whereabouts."

"There is no point in worrying about what might have happened," Tai shrugged. "Besides, you boys know I never lose."

"Except to Sydney Bristow," Sark tossed in the insult, and immediately regretted it.

Tai turned to look at him, a mocking laugh dancing in her cold eyes. "Yes, but you've taken her out of my way, Julian."

"What?" demanded Poladski, his interest peeked. "Do you mean to say Agent Bristow is out of action?"

"That is encouraging, if it is true," Frou grinned. "That woman has been a pain in my ass and anyone else's who dared to cross the CIA's path."

"You will be pleased to know Mr. Sark has taken Agent Bristow into private custody, then," Tai smirked.

"Have you really?" grinned Poladski. "Now that is something to celebrate. She's a pretty thing…I wouldn't mind paying a visit to that prisoner, Sark. If you don't object."

"I'm afraid I must object," Sark said shortly, fighting the boiling rage threatening to overspill. He could think of nothing more pleasing at the moment than the thought of choking Tai Ichiniwa to death. "I am trying a new experimental procedure of breaking down an agent. I want nothing to tamper with the results."

"Does your method involve wining, dining and giving pretty gifts?" Tai said in Chinese under her breath.

"Say that again, and slowly, woman," Poladski complained. "We don't all speak ten different languages."

"I wouldn't expect it of you, Igor," Tai said coolly, not taking her eyes off of Sark. "I know you've had difficulty mastering your own native language."

Igor leapt to his feet, rightfully insulted, but Frou held him back. "Easy there, old boy," he soothed softly. "Shall we revisit a certain lady I introduced you to last time we stayed in Austria?"

"Yes, Igor," agreed Tai, brushing him with a scornful glance. "Hurry back to your whore."

Frou practically had to drag the huge Russian out of the room. "Contact us when we have something important to speak of," Frou snapped as he exited. "I'll have the maid collect our things."

After the door closed and the sound of their voices faded away, Tai let out a laugh that had none of her earlier coldness. "Julian, you mustn't get angry with me," she chided him almost flirtatiously. "I sometimes let my tongue run away from me."

"Apparently," Sark said dryly, not taking his eyes off of the woman. "But no more of your games, Tai. Sydney is no concern of yours."

Tai's lip twitched a little as he referred to Sydney by her first name, but Sark was too tired to care. No, tired wasn't the right word. The right word was in withdrawal. He was longing to see Sydney again, despite their last parting. He had kicked himself numerously over his stay in Austria. Kissing her again would have snared her, but instead he had let his own tongue run off and had made some dry comment about Vaughn, reminding her of her infidelity. Next time he would be more careful, next time she would stay in his arms. The cold voice of the Chinese spy interrupted his fond plans. "You don't really care for her, do you, Julian?" she inquired. Sark realized she had dragged her chair over next to his and was leaning forward. "Of course, Bristow's pretty, but everyone knows she fucking that CIA agent. She wouldn't look twice at a pretty little piece of spy trash like you."

"You have absolutely no grasp on the personality or desires of Agent Bristow," Sark said coldly, feeling a pang of jealously in his stomach. Did everyone in the world think Sydney and Vaughn were the ultimate power couple?

"I, on the other hand," Tai continued, ignoring his last comment. "Have full appreciation for a man of your, many talents."

Sark raised an eyebrow in Tai's direction. "I hope that wasn't your attempt of hitting on me," he drawled.

"And if it was?" Tai inquired with another smirk. "You and I would be good together, Julian. Both reckless, and willing to do anything to get to power. Send the little CIA girl back to her handler, or kill her…I don't care. Just don't make the mistake of thinking the two of you could ever have any sort of successful relationship."

"Oh, and I suppose you and I could?" Sark rolled his eyes.

"I think we could get the job done," Tai admitted. Sark paused, looking Tai up and down. There was no doubt she was an attractive lady, and she was probably right when she said they would 'get the job done.' But an offer of sex that would have once had Sark panting, no longer aroused any interest. All he wanted to do was go home to London and lounge about in the sun room with Sydney. Maybe read to each other, listen to Josh Groban and possibly earn himself a good night kiss that would lead to sex when they were both ready. He froze, realizing the directions his thoughts had suddenly taken. When had life stopped being about sex, crime and wine?

He realized Tai was still awaiting his answer. "Let's face it, Ms. Ichiniwa," he said coolly. "You and I would end up killing each other."

"And you and Ms. Bristow won't?" Tai growled. "Or if she doesn't, you don't think Agent Vaughn will have…words…with you? Everyone in our world knows she loves him, and everyone in the entire world knows he loves her. You can't just overlook that minor, insignificant detail."

Sark had had enough. "Get out of my house."

"Oh, struck a nerve have I?" she grinned. "You know she doesn't care for you, then? Does she still try to kill you on sight?"

Sark leaned forward and pressed a small buzzer built into the table. Almost immediately the door swung open to reveal his own bodyguard. Sark was capable of taking care of himself, but there were some guests to his home in Innsbruck who needed a little persuasion. "Please escort Ms. Ichiniwa to her vehicle, Sanjay," he instructed.

Tai could take a hint, and didn't argue when Sanjay roughly took her arm and began pulling her out of the room. She was already out of Sark's mind by the time the door closed. His thoughts once more revolved around the CIA agent waiting for him back in London. He wanted nothing more than to fly back home immediately, but he knew that before going back he needed some advice, advice on how to deal with a woman. He pulled out his cell phone and dialled the number to a residence in Tuscany. After all, who knew more about love than the Italians?

Los Angeles

Vaughn blearily peered into the soggy dregs of his coffee, his mind wandering off again in thoughts of Sydney. It had almost been a full month since they had been parted in Venice and he had fallen into a depression almost as deep as when he had believed her to be dead. It was impossible that the CIA had absolutely no leads on where Sydney was being held. Vaughn grimaced and leaned back, draining the bitter, black coffee. Actually, it was perfectly possible. APO was no longer officially able to look for Sydney, and the Missing Persons Unit were more interested in recovering children and innocents, not a fully capable CIA agent who had been known to show a little rouge behaviour now and again.

Forcing himself to come back to reality, Vaughn focused foggily on what Sloane was saying about a possible terrorist threat in the East Indies. "Now, as nothing has been officially confirmed, the CIA can't be seen to be investigating. Nadia, Eric, you'll go in posing as tourists. See Marshall for the full op. We need to be fully aware of exactly what Natagar is planning."

Vaughn looked around at his comrades. Dixon was taking notes, his mouth pursued in a frown. Nadia and Eric had their heads together, whispering either about their budding relationship or their upcoming mission- with those two it was hard to tell. Sloane was looking around at all of them with a disgustingly proud look on his face and Marshall was playing with his palm pilot underneath the table. In that moment, he hated all of them. They had all been able to revert back to some semblance of normal life, to continue on with their day to day without Sydney. But the guilt was eating Vaughn up.

He knew it was guilt, and not any particular worry for Sydney. Vaughn knew that Sydney and Sark had some sort of understanding he had never shared. Sark would never hurt Sydney in cold blood. They were bloodthirsty enemies only in the field. Furthermore, Vaughn knew that Sydney was perfectly capable of taking care of herself and charming her way out of captivity. And Jack, one of the most cunning agents to ever pass through the front doors of the CIA, was on her trail. He would find her. But until then, Vaughn could only mope about what an awful boyfriend he had been the past few months.

Lauren had effected him more than he had originally dared to admit. It was only now, looking back, that he realized there had been times he had been downright cold to Sydney, letting his dead ex-wife make him not as trusting or as fully able to give himself to any woman, even Sydney. He vowed for the umpteenth time to remedy that mistake as soon as he had Sydney back in his arms. "Mike? Mike…you're not sleeping with your eyes open, are you?" came the joking voice of Eric. Underneath the mirth though, there was a hint of worry.

Vaughn blinked and gave his friend a shaky smile. "No, no, I'm fine. What's up?" He looked around the room and realized the conference room had been deserted besides himself and Weiss.

"What's up?" repeated Eric. "The meeting's over…you can go home."

Before Vaughn could say anything, the door barged open and Jack Bristow came stalking into the room, Nadia and Sloane following him. "Jack!" Vaughn felt the name burst from his mouth. Surely this unexpected entrance meant he had something on his daughter's whereabouts.

Jack hurriedly plugged his laptop into the screen in the APO conference room and began opening up files. "I'm assuming you're here because you have something on Sydney?" inquired Nadia, her breathless voice betraying her impatience.

"Possibly," Jack acknowledged. He brought up the image of a pretty but hard looking Chinese woman exiting a brick building. "This is Tai Ichiniwa, used to be ECR before it was brought down a year and a half ago by Sydney in her time with the Covenant. Two days ago, she and a skilful team entered the lodgings of a Covenant server farm in Australia where she successfully stole eight hundred million dollars."

"That's a hell of a lot of shopping sprees," Eric observed dryly, earning himself a whack from Nadia.

"She then transferred one hundred million dollars to her own personal account and the accounts of Igor Poladski and Joshua Frou. The remaining five hundred million was given to the private account of a one Julian Sark. I believe that these four individuals form a new organization I've been tracking for sometime. They call themselves the Guild. Until now, I thought Tai herself must be heading it, but the difference in money leads me to believe Sark's the man in charge."

"Sark in self-employment?" frowned Nadia. "That's a rarity."

"Did you follow Tai afterwards?" Vaughn asked eagerly. "Where did she go?"

"To Austria," Jack answered. He paused for what Vaughn could only assume was dramatic effect and then allowed himself a sly grin. "To a private residence of Mr. Julian Sark, who was present when she arrived."

Vaughn felt a grin growing on his face and saw it mirrored by Nadia and Eric, even Sloane was wearing a triumphant smirk. "I've got Sark tracked, of course," Jack informed them. "At the moment we believe he is heading to Tuscany. I have a tactical team on standby in the Tuscan area. If they see Sydney, they're to move in immediately."

"And if not?" Sloane inquired.

"We keep following him," Jack shrugged. "Eventually he'll bring us back to her."

"Well done, Jack," Sloane said heartily. "I'll inform Langley immediately."

"Tell them I think I've got enough of a grip on myself to return to active duty," Jack said with something almost like a twinkle in his eye. Sloane left, and Eric and Nadia followed him shortly thereafter.

Vaughn was left facing Jack. "Is she going to be all right, Jack?" he asked frankly. "Tell me she's going to be all right."

Jack looked up from where he was closing down his computer. "There is one thing I thought you had learned about my daughter, Agent Vaughn," he said. "As much as it pains me to admit it, she resembles her mother in several aspects. The most significant of these, to my belief, is that is takes a true man to hurt her. And you and I both know, Julian Sark is not capable of hurting a Derevko. Or a Bristow for that matter."

Vaughn allowed himself a little smile. Although he hated to admit it, Jack certainly knew how to put the right spin on things to make them perfectly comforting.

Tuscany

Sark gratefully accepted the glass of full-bodied merlot Antonio Manna handed him and settled back into his plush arm chair. They were settled comfortably in Antonio's study and the dark Tuscan night sky eased Sark's mind with its beauty. He could still hardly believe he had flown from Austria to Italy to talk with the only true father figure he had ever had. Sark had never been one to ask advice, but even he could admit that he was out at sea in the case of Sydney Bristow. For this one opportunity, he knew he had to put aside his lone wolf persona and ask for help.

Antonio settled in a chair facing Sark and drank deeply from his goblet. "So, Julian, here you are, and clearly you are greatly troubled by something," he announced briskly. "You are not one of those who lets his emotions play on his face, but you look as though something has tormented you out of your cold façade. And that is surely a matter for no little alarm."

Sark nodded his mute agreement, suddenly unsure as to how he might begin. "I have come to you…for…advice, Antonio," he admitted. "You know my relationship with my father was never good."

"I believe the word some use is dysfunctional," Antonio pointed out dryly.

"He was a bad man," Sark immediately leapt into defensive mode.

"And you are not?" Antonio asked bluntly. "Are we not all bad men in the end?"

"I don't want to be a bad man any more," Sark announced, wincing when he realized his voice verged on a whine.

Antonio appeared taken back and openly peered at the younger man. "Oh no," he suddenly moaned. "Oh no. It cannot be."

"What?" Sark asked, alarmed. "What 'cannot be?'"

"I never thought I would see this day come," Antonio marvelled, and Sark could see he now look amused more than anything else.

"Could I inquire to what day you are referring to?" Sark asked testily.

"Julian Lazaery is in love!" Antonio announced, accompanied by a great bellow of a laugh.

"In love?" spluttered Sark, choking on his wine. "I am most certainly not." Antonio fixed him with a blank stare and he took another sip of wine, to wet his suddenly dry throat. "Well…perhaps…greatly attracted to a certain individual."

"That is more like it," Antonio said in approval. "Might I inquire to the identity of the lady? Do I have the pleasure of her acquaintance?"

Sark paused. "Well…you haven't been officially introduced," he answered. "But you've seen her."

"Details, my boy," Antonio prodded. "I was never any good at riddles. She must be batting for the wrong team, yes? Perhaps M16? Or not in the business at all?"

"She's been in your house," Sark said, lowering his head.

As expected, Antonio let out a great guffaw. "Agent Sydney Anne Bristow!" he roared. "You're in love with Sydney Bristow?"

"Shut up!" hissed Sark. "I'm not in love with her! I'm just having…certain feelings…that I shouldn't be having."

"Just one moment…is she still in your custody?" Antonio inquired, calming his mirth.

"Sometimes I feel more like I'm in her custody," Sark grumbled, slouching down in his chair.

"She gets that from her mother," Antonio said confidently. "When dealing with a Derevko woman it is important to remember three things. One, they are all perfectly capable of taking care of themselves. Two, they are the easiest creatures to fall in love with. And three, they are all barking mad!"

Sark caught a certain tone in his old friend's voice that caused him to raise an eyebrow. "Which one got to you?"

Antonio laughed. "Katya…and Ilena," he admitted. "I once thought I'd try my hand with Irina, but that was after she had been married to Jack Bristow. The woman was practically celibate after that. I'm almost tempted to say Bristow tamed her to a certain extent."

"So, they are tameable?" Sark asked, hopefully. "I mean, they can eventually be made to love one man and settle down?"

"Oh, yes…if you consider faking your death and running back to open your own terrorist organization until a psuedo name tamed," smirked Antonio. "But these are women, Julian, not dogs. You can't tame them to stay, they have to want to. Does that help at all?"

"Not one iota," Sark said honestly, feeling possibly even worse than he had upon arrival. "I suppose I'll just get some shut eye and head back to London in the morning." He drained his wine glass and stood up, stretching.

He headed to the door, but Antonio stopped him. "I can tell you one thing though," he said abruptly. "Holding a Derevko hostage and forcing her to stay, is probably not the best thing you could do."

Sark allowed himself a wry grin. "Why do you think I'm going home?"

Sydney panted heavily as she landed heavily from a leap over a rotten tree. The dark forests of Austria were hardly suitable for a midnight chase, but beggars couldn't be choosers. She knew as soon as she reached the other end of the brush, the CIA would have an extraction team waiting for her. It could be more than two minutes of straight running from here. She carried on, once more getting into her zone. The sound of her heavy breathing pounded angrily in her ears, the only sound in the dead of night. Until, that was, a British voice called out her name. "Agent Bristow, fancy meeting you here," came a voice she knew all too well.

Sydney turned to her left to face her lover with a smile. Julian Sark was sitting patiently on an overturned tree. He rose as she turned and smirked. His blonde hair was slightly tousled and he wore black fatigues. In his right hand, he carelessly held a black glock. "What the hell are you doing here, Julian?" she laughed, secretly pleased to see him. "Aren't you supposed to be waiting for me in New Zealand?"

Sark paused for a moment. "Waiting for you in New Zealand?" he repeated. "What are you on about, Agent Bristow?"

"Very funny," Sydney grinned, leaning into him and kissing him on the lips.

He staggered back, a bewildered expression on his face. He peered at her for a moment and then let out a laugh. "You must have received quite a blow to the head, Agent Bristow," he observed. "I am most certainly not your precious Agent Vaughn."

"Vaughn?" laughed Sydney. "I haven't thought about Vaughn in that way for years! Will you cut the act? We've been living together for five years, Sark."

"I don't know what exactly is wrong with you, Bristow," Sark admitted. "But it makes my job a lot easier." Before Sydney could fully understand what he was saying, Sark brought the glock smashing down on her head. She collapsed to the ground, clinging desperately to consciousness.

Sark stood over her, no trace of remorse or pity on his face. She tried to form some sort of plea or a cry of 'why?' but her lips wouldn't work. "You should know by now, Agent Bristow, I could never live with you. For one, I don't think our employers would be pleased in the least. For two, I like my women blonde."

He brought the gun up and aimed at her face, pulling the trigger without another word…

Sydney bolted up in bed, sweating from the exertion of the nightmare. She was crying unashamedly, the cold face of Sark still haunting her. When she had fully assured herself she was safe in London, rather than dying in the forests of Austria, she lay back down again, trying to cease the flow of tears. Nightmares and pleasant dreams of Sark had been the only thing to disturb her sleep for the almost two weeks since she had last seen him. Her lips still unexplainably burned with the force of their kiss. Every time she recalled that last, disastrous night together, her heart almost broke. She couldn't tell if it was guilt over the kiss or remorse at leaving him. The one thing she was sure of was the fact that she seemed unable to think of anyone else, no matter how hard she tried. Even thoughts of Vaughn and her father were shattered by the memory of Sark's intriguing blue eyes.

Knowing she would achieve no more sleep that night, Sydney kicked off the covers, deciding a shower might calm her nerves. As the hot water beat down on her, she realized the shower might calm her physical anguish, but nothing could stop her thoughts. And her thoughts were certainly racing that morning. She tried desperately to miss Vaughn, and in some ways she did. But she was becoming sickeningly aware of the fact that it was not the way one missed a lover. It was the same way she missed seeing Eric or Dixon. Without fully realizing it, Sydney accepted the fact that she and Vaughn were no longer the happy couple they had once been, but just dearest friends who were confusing that friendship for a deeper relationship.

Sydney stepped out of the shower and wrapt herself in a towel. Unwillingly to quite face another morning sun without Sark in the home, she stayed locked in the bathroom, blow drying her hair. She had to wipe off the mirror, which had fogged up after the steam of the shower had flooded the room. The condensation clung to her fingers, cooling the skin that had heated from the steaming water.

She wasn't looking as good as she would have liked. Her sleep was really more plagued by nightmares and her awaking was spent worrying about what Sark was doing. There were violet shadows under her warm brown eyes and she knew she was slightly on the thin side. But food just didn't taste as good without Sark. She groaned, and repositioned the hair dryer over her brown roots, which were beginning to show through the disgusting platinum. She was slightly relieved by that, though she didn't relish the thought of seeing Sark again looking like some sort of reversed skunk. She wasn't quite ready to return to being a brunette though. Part of her could still pretend that it was Julia Thorne falling for Sark, certainly not Sydney Bristow. Sydney was too intelligent for that. Besides Sark had made it clear he liked women blonde.

She growled, angry with herself for even thinking of altering her appearance for a man's approval. She abandoned her hair, which was mostly dry by now anyways, and headed back to her bedroom. While she was in the bathroom, Nancy had entered the room and was setting up breakfast. Sydney caught sight of herself in her bedroom mirror and winced at the perfect unattractiveness of her hair.

"Morning, Nancy," she greeted, joining her in the sitting room after throwing a housecoat on.

"Good morning, Julia," Nancy greeted. Sydney hid a smile. The household staff still knew her by her alias, which really worked well with her Julia falling for Sark, not Sydney theory.

Sydney paused before asking her next question, still dealing with her feminist roots. "Nancy…could you possibly do me a favour?"

"Of course, miss, what do you need?" Nancy said amiably.

"I need you to pick me up some hair dye," Sydney announced with an undisguised grimace.